


Trade Secret

by hit_the_books



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anti-Possession Tattoos, F/M, Porn With Plot, Reader-Insert, Smut, Tattoos, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 15:55:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4631229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hit_the_books/pseuds/hit_the_books
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“Like you.” Sam nods, eyes on your slightly exposed chest, the tank top half covering your own anti-possession tattoo.</em>
</p><p>Heading out to supply two hunters with anti-possession tattoos, you get more than just your fee after Sam takes a shine to you.</p><p>Set during season 3, before "Jus in Bello".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trade Secret

“Sure I can meet you guys there. What was the address? U-huh… U-huh. Yep cash only. And make sure you’re both sober and have eaten something… Well thems the rules. Okay, see you in an hour.”

Ending the call to your cell, you stow it your pocket and jump back inside the driver’s cabin of your heavily modded RV. Two guys need ink. And not just any ink -- they’re willing to pay extra for something that no other tattooist can really provide -- attention to detail that will ensure no one else wears their asses and an aftercare plan that last only two hours.

The RV hits the highway and you keep your eyes on the road as you stay within the limit, your life trailing along behind you. There’s a devil’s trap painted on the floor of your mobile studio, silver wherever you can get away with it and a whole load of lore books safely stowed as well. That’s on top of all of your tattoo gear and those things other people would call life’s essentials. It’s still day and you roll down a window for a breeze, whipping your tank top about you a little, cooling your tattooed covered arms and chest.

It’s not showtime yet, so you don’t put on any of your own music. You just slap on a local station and let some country follow you down the highway until you’re pulling up at the motel that the guys said they were staying at. Parking outside their room -- taking up two spaces beside a sleek looking, classic Impala -- you jump out and head to the reception first.

You smile, hand over a business card, flash a practitioner's license from that state before heading back to the guys’ room. Knocking on the door, your stomach is doing loops -- an air of danger gathering -- like it always does when your clients are hunters. ‘Course most of your clients are hunters, but that meant they were great at bringing trouble with them.

The door opens. Hazel eyes stare down at you, surrounded by slightly wavy, dark hair.

“Hey, I’m Y/N. Here about the tattoos.”

A massive hand comes out to shake yours, eyes travel up and down your bare arm, drinking in your ink. “Brilliant. I’m Nathan and,” Nathan opens the door more, “this is Alex.” Alex, slightly shorter than Nathan, with green eyes and dirty blond hair gives a small wave. They’re both dressed in nothing special, like most hunters, favoring denim and plaid.

You recognise them, because you’d been in the Roadhouse once when they’d swung by. “Uh-huh… You’re the Winchesters,” your voice drops to a whisper, “and at a guess, I’d say you’re Sam and he’s Dean.”

At the sound of his name, Sam blanches a little. “Could you not say that-”

“‘Course, I know you’ve got the feds on your back. No worries. You two better step into my office.”

Opening up the RV where your portable studio resides, you flick on a light, knowing your batteries are well juiced. You step inside and the guys amble in after you, the RV shifting a little with the extra weight. The familiar smell of antiseptic fills the small space.

“No offense, but I need to breathalyze the two of you.” You pull a breathalyzer out of a draw and hold it towards them, two mouthpieces in-hand.

“Hang on, sweetheart...” Dean was the one protesting, hands up. “Why do I have to do this?”

You smirk and hold the machine out to Dean first, clean mouthpiece on. “To make sure a) you’re fully aware of your actions and b) you haven’t thinned your blood too much. So you first.”

Sam glares at Dean as the older brother reluctantly blows into it. You take it from him and look at the reading.

“Too high, you’ll have to wait a couple of hours. Need you fully consenting.” You wink at Dean as you change the piece over for Sam and hand it to him.

“I told you lay off those beers,” Sam snipes at Dean as he takes the breathalyzer from you and blows into it.

Dean pulls a face as you take the device from Sam and check the reading. “It’s you first. I’m assuming you want it here?” Your finger is touching Sam’s chest on his shirt, pointing at a spot just above his heart.

“Like you.” Sam nods, eyes on your slightly exposed chest, the tank top half covering your own anti-possession tattoo. And is it just your imagination or do Sam’s eyes linger there just a little longer than they need to?

“Yeah, exactly,” you give Sam a smile and he gives you one back. Then you remember one more thing you need to check.

You shuffle over to another draw and pull out a silver flask. Sam and Dean give you bored looks as you splash them with holy water. There’s no smoke or yelling.

“Was that entirely necessary?” Dean asks as he dries his face on his sleeve.

“Don’t want to go trapping a demon inside a person’s body, now, do I? You can go and get some coffee. You’ve got two hours: don’t drink anymore booze. Maybe grab a bite to eat too.”

You hear Sam stifle a laugh to the side of you, obviously amused by someone bossing Dean around.

“Right, whatever. Call me if anything comes up.” Dean heads for the door and leaves.

Turning to Sam, you smile. “Okay, I just need to print off the design transfer, if you could take your shirts off and lie on my work table, that’d be great.”

There’s a nervous look in Sam’s eyes. “Is this going to hurt?” He starts taking his tops off and-

Your eyes rake over him and you can’t hide that you like what you see. Sam sees this and gives you a bashful smile.

“Is it,” you try to compose yourself, “going to hurt? Well, of course it’s going to hurt. But you’re a hunter, I’m sure you’ll have experienced worse.”

Nodding in reply, Sam lies down on the bench, and you get the transfer printing while you head over to his chest with a razor, wet flannel and shaving foam. “Just gotta…” You say as you approach, your stomach doing loops again.

“Okay,” Sam says in a low voice as you reach him and wet his chest, just by his heart. This close and you can see some of the scars that pepper his skin. You spray some shaving foam on and start smoothing it over his chest. Thoughts and ideas awaken and you can’t help wondering what it would be like to trail your hands over the rest of his well formed physique. You shave the patch that needs to be clear, being careful not to cut Sam and then clean the foam and hair off.

Satisfied, you start some music playing low, snap some black latex gloves on and bring the transfer over. “Are you going to trust me on positioning?”

“Well, you’re the expert, so they say.” Sam gives you a small grin and you melt a little.

“True.” Smoothing the transfer down that will guide your hand, you try to calm your breathing. It’s not going to be much fun for Sam if you’re over anxious. Some Rolling Stones floods into the space and you use the familiar music to calm yourself.

The transfer placement looks right, so you wheel your seat over, your tattoo machine in a set position beside the bench already. The inks are already prepped. You use a special ink blend and the reason why hunters seek you out over going to a regular parlour.

“I’m gonna need to follow some aftercare plan?”

You look up from your tools. “No. You’ll bleed while I’m applying the ink, and for up to two hours after, but the point of my ink is that you won’t need to worry about aftercare.”

“Oh, Dean didn’t say… is the ink special?”

Flattered by Sam’s curiosity, you give him a big smile. “Very.”

“But you’re not gonna tell me more than that?”

“Trade secret. You could research it yourself if you wanted to.” That’s what you had done.

Nodding, Sam takes a deep breath. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Picking up your pen, you put your foot down on the machine’s pedal and it noisily whirs to life. Sam paces his breathing as the needle starts feeding ink into his skin, your hand skillfully beginning to the trace the outline of the pentacle core of the design.

“How you doing champ?” You say loudly over the sound of the tattoo machine and the music.

Sam swallows, looking like he needs a distraction. “It’s not that bad, like lots of scratches all at once… But you’ve got way more tattoos and I gotta admit, I’m having a hard time imagining how you could go through all that.”

Catching -- out of the corner of your eye -- the hunter looking up at your arms again you blush. “I kinda got use to the pain.”

“What’s the big one on your right arm? All the cuneiforms? Kinda looks like Sumerian, but I don’t recognise the dialect.”

Wiping away some of the blood and excess ink from Sam’s skin, you can’t help grinning at him asking about that one. “It’s nothing special, just a passage from the epic of Gilgamesh.”

“Neat and is that… an exorcism chant on your left?”

Upon your left forearm is Latin spelling out a demon exorcism rite. “Yep. I know it off by heart these days, but it came in handy a few times.”

“You hunt?”

“Not normally. Hunting isn’t exactly productive to keeping all of your digits and I need those to work. I find my ink’s more helpful than almost getting myself killed.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

The two of you continue to chat, sharing war stories, as you carefully ink Sam’s tattoo into the dermis layer of his skin. The music a gentle companion. After almost two hours, you finally declare your work on Sam finished.

Having taped some cellophane over the top of it, you let out the tiniest of sighs as Sam puts his shirts back on. You ask for his payment and he hands over the exact amount.

“You can take the cellophane off after two hours.”

Sam nods. “After Dean’s had his, do you wanna, I dunno, get a drink or something?” Sam checks his cell and puts it away.

You stop cleaning your work space and look up at Sam, surprise written on your face. “Sure, I don’t have any more appointments for today.” Your stomach starts doing loops again.

“Great, here’s my number,” Sam hands you a slip of paper just as Dean knocks on the door and opens it.

You go back to cleaning and replacing everything that is single use and smile up at Dean. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”

“Hopefully I meet your expectations for sobriety this time, sweetheart.”

The guys watch you as you finish cleaning, retrieve your flask of holy water again and the breathalyzer with a fresh mouth piece. “If you’ll just breathe into this for me, Dean.”

“Okay, but you don’t need to baptise me again.”

Sam steps towards the door. “I’ll leave you two to it.” There’s a huge grin on his face as he leaves and your heart beats a little faster.

*

It’s early evening by the time you call Sam to find out where he’s at. Following his directions to a bar, you try to keep calm -- using your leather jacket as a shield to hide your nerves. The sun is setting, the sky a fantastic shade of pink and orange.

Sam’s not hard to spot -- sat in a booth near the bar -- waving you over as you walk inside. You slide in opposite him.

“Can I get you a drink?” He asks, rising from his seat.

“Sure, just a beer thanks.”

He gives you one of his huge smiles and heads over to the bar. You watch him as he gets your drink and another beer for himself. Returning to the booth Sam slides in beside you on your right.

“Here.” Sam puts your beer down in front of you.

“Thanks.” You give it an experimental sip.

“You didn’t tell me what the passage of Gilgamesh on your arm says.” Sam takes a swig of his beer.

For a moment you don’t quite understand what Sam is talking about, the proximity of having him sit so close to you causing you to feel like all of your skin is tingling. He brushes a hand along your jacket.

“Maybe you could show it to me again?”

Nervously, hands shaking, you slide your leather jacket from your shoulders and put it to one side. You put your right arm on the table so that Sam can see the ancient script.

“May I?” He asks, reaching his right hand out to your arm.

“S-sure.”

Calloused fingers -- far rougher and larger than your own -- gently trace the script on your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Your breathing gets a little faster. No longer surrounded by hyper-sanitized surfaces, you can smell Sam. Coffee, old books and musk -- reassuring and tantalizing at the same time.

“So what’s this say?” Sam strokes your arm.

“This is the part where Gilgamesh refuses Inanna’s hand in marriage. I can’t remember the exact translation, but it’s that moment.”

Sam leans a little closer and takes another sip of his beer. Out of the corner of your eye you watch him do this and feel your face get warmer as you see the motion of his Adam's apple bobbing.

Picking up your own beer -- suddenly very thirsty -- you give it a long pull and catch Sam staring at you as you put it back down.

“What?”

Sam licks his lips and leans in closer, his face almost touching yours. “Y/N?”

“Sam?”

The hunter bridges the gap and his lips are on yours, full and smooth, gently moving as he kisses you. You kiss back, moving towards him. A happy groan escapes Sam and he twines his right hand with yours, pulling you closer to him as you kiss.

A breath and then your tongues find each other. Slipping and sliding, tasting of beer. The bar disappears around you until there’s just Sam and you. You and Sam. You feel an ache between your legs.

Reluctantly it seems, Sam pulls away, his pupils are wide in the lowlight of the bar. “Do you want to head back to my room?”

You manage a nod and then Sam is standing, picking up your jacket for you and helping you put it back on. Outside of the bar, the two of you are only just managing to walk upright as you head back to the motel, constantly stealing kisses from each other. Sam has to keep readjusting himself as he walks and the two of you keep eyeing each other hungrily.

Reaching his room, Sam unlocks the door and then drags you inside, slamming you up against the door as he closes it. This time his hands aren’t stopping at your arms and you push into his touch as he cups your right breast through your bra. Sam kisses along your jaw and down your neck, all over the parts of your chest left exposed by your top.

“We’re too… dressed.” You manage to say as Sam’s hand teases your breast.

Mouth stopping from its kissing onslaught, Sam catches his breath. “You’re right.”

His massive hands help you out of your jacket and then you help unbutton his shirt. As this happens, you shepherd Sam to the bed furthest from the door until you’re both completely undressed. You trace the scars on his chest as you move.

The backs of Sam’s legs hit the bed and he tumbles down to it pulling you with him. You straddle him, your hips set so his hard cock is resting beside your buttocks. Finding each other’s mouths once more, your tongues welcome each other as you grind against Sam and he rubs his cock against your cheeks.

Moaning into each other’s mouths, hands teasing and caressing each other, Sam expertly rolls you off of him and onto your back before shifting you up the bed. Kneeling between your legs, he reaches his right hand down between the two of you and runs a finger along your dripping slit.

“Sam!” You gasp and he gives you a huge smile before leaning down again to seize your mouth with his.

Sam pushes a finger between your wet folds and circles your hole before sliding it inside you. The welcome friction sends a shiver through you, making you moan into Sam’s mouth as you push down on his hand. When his wet thumb finds your clit a moment later you whimper.

Catching his breath, Sam mischievously smiles down at you and says in a low voice, “Are you this wet just for me?”

Sam adds a second finger to your aching hole before you can reply and starts stroking your sweet spot.

“Yes!” You gasp, pushing down towards him, you’re already on the brink -- the pressure coiling tight ready to be released.

You pant and moan as Sam’s fingers move inside you. He circles his thumb along your clit and you’re almost there, but then-

“Do you want me to fuck you?” Sam’s fingers stroke you deep and hard.

“Yes!”

A pleased smile on his face, Sam pulls his hand away from you and you moan at the sudden lack of pressure inside you, even though you know it’s only temporary. Watching Sam from the bed, you follow his movements as he finds a condom in his bag, opens it and then slides it over his hard cock.

Sam gets back on the bed and you open your legs to him. Putting his hands either side of your head, Sam bends down and gently starts kissing you as he teases your hole with the end of his cock making you push towards it.

“You said… you were… going to fuck me,” you manage between the kisses.

Lowering his mouth to your right ear, breath puffing at your hair, Sam says, “If you insist.”

And the teasing ends as he slides inside you, filling you up. “Sam!” You moan. Sam’s hips begin to thrust. You tilt your own so he can reach deeper inside you and wrap your legs around him, getting Sam just where you want him. Just the right spot.

“Shit, Y/N!” Sam groans, burying his face on the left side of your neck as he fucks into you. His lips touch your skin and he begins to kiss and suck. You know you’ll have a hickey there in the morning.

You’re moving with his thrusts, chasing the pressure you need. You can feel your core tightening again. Sam’s lips move from your neck and are on your mouth again, stealing your breath and claiming you. You unwrap your legs, and Sam uses the opportunity to push even deeper and you groan incoherently into his mouth.

Taking a moment to swirl his hips around, making his cock move in circles inside you, you gasp as he plunges himself fully back in. And as he bumps up against the sweet spot you feel yourself getting closer and closer.

Sam moves to your neck again and starts sucking and biting, his thrusts hard and fast, and that’s it. Legs wrapping around Sam once more, you shudder and cry out as your orgasm rips through you. Sam begins to kiss your mouth once more, his thrusts desperate now.

A grunt and a gasp escape Sam as he reaches his own climax, his hips going wild as he comes. As your breathing settles, Sam pulls out and puts the condom in the trash before joining you in the bed again.

“Mmmmmmm.” You cuddle up to Sam.

Sam’s fingers are tracing your tattoos again. His touch is sweet and slow. “You don’t have that many tattoos for a tattoo artist.”

“And you don’t have that many scars for a hunter.”

Sam pulls you closer -- buries his face in your hair -- and you hear him whisper, “Give it time. Give it time.”

**Author's Note:**

> Having recently got my own anti-possession tattoo, I couldn't resist putting together a little story where the guys get theirs. I hope you enjoyed reading this and I look forward to seeing you in the comments.
> 
> You can find me over on Tumblr at [Dreams from the Bunker](http://dreamsfromthebunker.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Trade Secret is [available on Tumblr here](http://dreamsfromthebunker.tumblr.com/post/127329278030/trade-secret).


End file.
